Earth's Mightiest Heroes, and All that Jazz
by Hawkward Russian
Summary: A series of One Shots on how the Avengers spend their day when they aren't avenging. In progress and accepting ideas for more One Shots! Contains Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Pepper, Maria Hill, and Sharon Carter! Pairings include Clintasha, Pepperony, Thane, and Staron. Read, review, enjoy, and send me ideas for more! Hail Hydra ;)
1. Thursday

**A/N:**

**Just a little One Shot I thought of that made me smile. Hope you guys like it! Leave a review for me and I'll love you forever! ;D**

**Anyone else excited for _Age of Ultron_?**

* * *

It was a rather quiet day in New York. No aliens invading, no cat crazed demigod wielding his magic scepter, and no motherships cutting skyscrapers in half like a block of cheese. Not that New York is ever actually _quiet, _but in light of recent events, it was just a normal day.

And yes, though you would never expect it, the term _normal_ did at the moment apply to the events going on in Avengers Tower.

"Greetings Miss Carter," Stark's AI Jarvis voiced as I stepped into the large elevator after bypassing security.

"Hello Jarvis," I intoned, still trying to get used to the fact that I was talking to a robot that wasn't even a physical presence.

"I have informed Mr. Stark of your presence. Would you like me to take you to the recreational level?"

"Take me wherever Captain America is." I shrugged, leaning back against the railing. The floor under my feet shifted, and a slight hum could be heard as the elevator rose steadily.

My reason for coming to Avengers Tower was a simple one: Rogers had invited me. We had been on three dates now, and when Steve had learned that I had a day off from the CIA, he had invited me to come spend the day at Avengers Tower with the rest of the team.

And how could anyone refuse an offer like that?

The elevator came to a stop, and after a pause the doors opened upon a spacious room furnished with couches, game tables, a full bar, even a pool off in the corner, while the sole light source came from one entire wall converted into a window where sunlight streamed in.

All crammed together on one couch in front of an enormous flat screen TV, sat Thor, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, and Bruce Banner.

They were playing Mario Kart.

Thor was on the edge of seat, gripping his controller in two massive hands, his eyes devouring the screen in an eager, open-mouthed gaze, giving way to tremendous deep throated laughs whenever he moved up a placing or hit another racer with his assortment of weapons.

Steve, who was at the moment matched against Thor, had a slight confused look about him, and he seemed to be watching where he put his fingers and what button to press more than the actual screen.

Stark, who was sitting between the two with a laid back air, shouted out advice and witty cynicisms at both of them, while Bruce sat a little off to the corner, hugging a pillow to his chest but quietly watching the game and its players with a contented smile.

"I WIN!" came the roar from Thor, followed by a gale of uproarious laughter that filled the room.

Steve dropped his controller on his lap with a sigh. "I cant figure out which button to press to shoot the thingy you get when you crash into the shiny box thingy." he said quietly to Stark, who made a face and showed him.

Thor, in his victory dance, turned and saw me. "MISS CARTER, WELCOME!" he cried in a voice to big for the room, a large happy grin on his face.

Everyone on the couch turned and also cried out their greetings, Steve passing his controller to Stark, who began a rematch with Thor, and coming up to stand beside me. "Hello Sharon," he said quietly with a smile.

"Hello Steve," I replied, before both of our attention was arrested from another victorious shout from Thor who had just zapped all of the player in the game with lightning.

"HAHAHA! Even in this tiny universe ruled by a little red man and his green brother, I am still the God of Thunder!"

Stark rolled his eyes. "You do realize that anyone can do that, right? And the guy's name is Mario."

"A strange name for a strange little red man." Thor replied.

"It's Italian," Stark grumbled, for even though Thor had dropped back to last place to zap everyone with lightning, he had somehow gotten in the lead again.

"Tony, play nice." came Pepper's warning tone from over by the bar, before she turned back to chatting with Maria Hill over steaming mugs of tea.

"I WIN AGAIN!" Thor roared, leaping to his feet to celebrate, and Stark quickly snagged the controller out of his hands before he could throw it out the window.

At that moment, Natasha Romanoff silently entered the room, her head swiveling as if looking for something.

"Hey Widow," Stark cried, "want to come over here and show us how its done? I think Thor's getting a little egotistical." And he cast a loaded glance at the smug Thunder God.

"Hmm. Not right now boys, maybe later..." she replied distractedly. "Hey, have any of you guys seen Clint?"

A chorus of "no's" greeted this question.

"Have you tried the roof or air ducts?" Bruce chimed in helpfully in the relative silence that followed.

"Those were the first places I checked..." Natasha muttered, trailing off, and a thoughtful line appeared on her forehead. Suddenly she smiled. "Jarvis," she said speaking to the ever-present AI, "find Hawkeye."

A sandy-haired head suddenly popped up over the flat-screen, startling everyone present.

"Cheater!" Clint cried, before rapidly firing off a series of Nerf darts in her direction, using the TV as cover and for gun support.

Natasha Romanoff, the fearless Black Widow, actually squealed before diving forward to take cover behind the couch, returning fire with her own Nerf gun in between the heads of the gamers sitting on it, much to the outcry of the general public as they were being peppered with stray bullets.

However, when Natasha discovered that Clint's aim only increased in accuracy, she decided to go on the defensive, and after firing off a few rounds at the TV, she ran to safety and disappeared out of view behind the wall in the corridor, laughing her head off as Nerf bullets bounced off the wall following her flight.

"Hi Sharon!" Clint cried, grinning, as he ran past Steve and I in hot pursuit.

"Was she..._laughing_?" I asked Steve in disbelief.

He grinned. "Clint has that effect on her."

"Exactly how long has he been behind there?" Bruce asked the group in amazement, for they all had never noticed Clint sneak behind the flat screen.

The man in question paused in the doorway, and raising his gun, fired a series of darts down the corridor.

"I got you!" he crowed triumphantly. "Game over! You're dea—" but he never got to finish, for in the next moment he was lying flat on his back. "Oh come on, Tasha! That's not faaaiiiirrrr!" he broke off into cry, as he was suddenly dragged from view behind the wall by his feet.

A few seconds of the sound of tussling ensued before: "Ow! Nat! You win! Uncle! Uncle! Ow!"

Everyone laughed, and turned back to their game, talking and jesting like the good friends they were.

"Earth's Mightiest Heroes," Steve sighed, with an almost fatherly smile upon his face. "We're just a bunch of kids."

* * *

**A/N:**

**So? What did you guys think? Let me know in the reviews! Also, don't forget to check out my _Bourne Legacy _spinoff titled _The Bourne Rebellion. _You can search for it or just find it on my profile page.**

**Hail Hydra! ;)**


	2. Authors Note:

**A/N:**

**Hey guys!**

**So I originally planned this as a One Shot, but people have been asking for more and I thought that it might be fun to maybe do a series of One Shots on the same plot line. I have a few ideas that I would love to put into words for y'all, but what I would really like is ****_your _****ideas!**

**Any scene that you wanted to happen in the Avengers but didn't? Any funny, cool, romantic, scary idea you have? I am completely open for suggestions! Send me yours in either a PM or in a review so everyone can see it, and if I like it, I'll write a One Shot based off of it as fast as I can and put your name as the "Idea Benefactor"! ;D**

**Put your thinking caps on!**

**-Hawkward Russian**


	3. The Great Star Wars

**A/N:**

**One Shot request number 1:**

**Idea Benefactor: ****ErinKenobi2893**

**_"I want to see a six-way battle between all the Avengers with toy swords and lightsabers! X-P  
Thor: Toy sword  
Clint: Blue toy lightsaber  
Tony: Red toy lightsaber  
Natasha: Green toy lightsaber  
Steve: Green toy lightsaber  
Bruce: Toy sword (when not hiding under the couch)  
Pepper: Double-ended purple toy lightsaber  
Have Pepper whack Steve in the back of the head by accident! X-P"_**

**Here's your One Shot ErinKenobi2893! I hope it does you justice, and that all of you other readers enjoy!**

**Don't forget to send me a PM or write a review if you have an idea!**

* * *

Breakfast at Avengers Tower was a group affair.

Though they all knew that at any time they could just snap their fingers and order whatever food they wanted, and have it delivered to them within ten minutes by Stark's kitchen staff, none of "Earth's Mightiest Heroes" like that kind of hand-and-foot service.

They preferred, instead, to all gather around at exactly 8:30 am in one of Stark's enormous kitchens, and prepare their own food all together. Sometimes they would plan one full course meal and then all make it together, and other times they would produce a variety of different breakfast items in smaller portions that they would, as a rule, share with anyone who wanted some.

Some could cook better than others, and were a little bit more creative in their food choices, Stark, Clint, Pepper, and Steve being among these, but the others were never idle and helped with the more utilitarian chores.

The meal planned for the day was eggs, bacon, and pancakes and crepes topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

Steve was the first one up and in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of milk before taking out the well used recipe book and flipping through its pages. Not long afterwards, Pepper joined him, and began a pot of tea, the too talking in low morning whispers. Stark came next, his hair still damp from a shower, and then Bruce, fresh from his morning yoga ritual in a sunny room especially designed for just that purpose.

The four of them, after exchanging their morning greetings, started on the bacon and eggs, and began adding the ingredients for the crepe and pancake recipe that Steve had picked out.

The elevator dinged, and Clint and Natasha entered the room, smiling over some witty sarcasm battle that they were earnestly employed in, and still wearing their workout clothes that showed evidence of a hard training regime.

It was no secret that the two of them hardly ever slept, choosing instead to go down to the vast gym and weapons range at insane hours of the morning where one would invariably find the other already there. They would keep each other company as they went through their own routines, before finishing strong with a fighting match, the trick rules and conditions changing every day for variety.

When Stark asked which one of the "Wonder Twins", as he called them, had won today, Clint promptly replied that he did—to which Natasha responded by tripping him and making him land flat on his face. He retaliated by kicking out her feet, and she landed on her butt beside him.

Everyone watched breathlessly, fearing that a full out war between them would begin, but they merely laughed, and helping each other up, walked into the kitchen to join the others.

Thor was the last to enter, his tired face and long disheveled hair food for kindhearted jesting and witty sarcasms.

"Hey, who does your hair, man?" Clint joked, as he sliced strawberries beside Natasha. "Because I want him."

"What did you do? Roll on your Hairy-Fairy?" Stark teased, who had a long standing joke that everyone has a "Hairy-Fairy", a sprite whose job it is to style one's hair while they sleep, his, of course, being an exceptionally good one.

"Probably scared it away with all of his snoring." Steve said in casual tone though his eyes were smiling. "Like an earthquake."

That was another thing: Steve, in his time of living with his fellow Avengers, had developed a sense of humor.

Thor shook his mane of hair and laughed good-naturedly. "Yes, yes. You are all very humorous. Your mothers would be very proud." And he tied back his hair in a ponytail with the black hair-tie Natasha had wordlessly offered him from her store on her wrist.

And the cook off began.

Steve took charge of the crepes, Pepper the pancakes, Stark the bacon, Bruce practiced his hand at the eggs, and Thor took the stems off the strawberries while Natasha and Clint sliced them with the knives off their own person's. All the while a lively conversation was kept up while Marvin Gaye's _I Heard it Through the Grapevine_ played—Stark occasionally pausing with tongs in hand to spin Pepper around the room, Steve gently swaying to the time of the music over the stove, Thor bobbing his head to what he thought was the beat, Bruce keeping time with his foot, and Clint and Natasha sharing loaded glances, carrying out full conversations with their eyes and smiling slightly as they watched Stark and Pepper dance happily, their love for each other obvious to all.

* * *

"If you're all finished, I have an idea for a team building exercise." Stark said suddenly, surprising all with his words.

It was after breakfast, and the group were still seated around a large dining table that was strewn with their now empty plates.

"_Team _building exercise?" Clint asked in disbelief, in the silence that followed. For, lets be honest, the words _Tony Stark_ and _Team_ rarely ever go together.

"Yeah," Stark said lightly, "I thought it would be good for us to, you know, connect. After all, we are the Avengers."

"_Connect_." Clint parroted in a dull voice, looking over at Natasha with a glance that spoke for itself.

"And you just thought of this last night?" Bruce voiced quietly, sharing in the general incredulity.

"Yeah." Stark looked at the faces around him. "What?"

"Nothing..." everybody mumbled at once, before rising to clear the table and the mess that they had made in the kitchen.

"Natasha," Stark began, "I could use some help setting up." He smirked. "Besides last time I checked you were still my assistant."

That smirk rapidly disappeared as a knife quivered in the wall a millimeter away from his ear, dripping strawberry juice like blood.

He blinked. "You know, I think Fury rewrote that contract." Then, not put down the slightest, he turned to Pepper, offering his arm with a winning smile. "Shall we?"

She smiled and took his arm, and together the two of them walked into the elevator.

"What do you think he has in mind?" Steve asked when the doors had closed.

"Probably some obstacle course, knowing Stark." Clint shrugged, washing the dishes before passing them to Natasha to dry.

"Oh, I hope not." Bruce frowned, as he wiped down the table.

"He had a pretty large package delivered last night," Natasha said quietly, making everyone silently wonder how she knew this.

"Did you see what it held?" Thor asked.

"Stark had taken in his room before I could see what it was." She said matter-of-factly, shrugging as she dried off another plate Clint handed to her.

They continued clearing up in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts until Pepper appeared.

She sat in a chair, put her head in her hands, and groaned—a sight that did nothing to relieve the team's fears.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled. "He watched Star Wars last night."

Those present had barely enough time to exchange worried glances, before Stark himself entered.

"A great movie," he said, having caught Pepper's last words. "The science is a little outdated, but a real classic. You should add that to your list," he cried, snapping his fingers in Steve's direction, who frowned, before taking out a small notepad and scribbling something on the inside.

"Stark, what are up to?" Clint frowned, folding his arms.

The man in question smiled at everyone present and clapped his hands. "Somewhere hidden inside the tower," he said in a dramatic voice, obviously enjoying every second, "is a miniature model of the Tesseract."

A few eyebrows were raised, but no one spoke.

"Your job," Stark continued, "is to find it. You will be split into three teams of two, and each team will be armed."

Clint and Natasha both glanced at each other.

"If either member of a team is hit, you are both out, so the trick is to protect your team member while looking for the Tesseract at the same time. Don't worry, its hidden in plain sight, and I wont be playing as I am the only one who knows where it is. Oh, and Jarvis has explicit orders to not reveal its location, so don't even try to cheat." At these words, Stark cast a meaning glance at Natasha who stared back at him defiantly.

"Any questions?"

"What are our weapons?" Natasha asked immediately.

Stark smiled. "That's the best part." and he dumped the contents of a large box, that he had previously stood in front of, onto the table.

"No." Natasha said quickly, shaking her head. "No way." And all around the room she was backed up by scoffs and incredulous laughter.

Strewn on the table, was a multitude of lightsabers.

"I'm not done," Stark said quickly, his smile broadening at the reaction his audience was giving him. "The winner, as a reward, gets to make one wish/command that I solemnly swear I will fulfill."

That got their attention, particularly Natasha's who immediately began thinking up all sorts of torturous revenge ploys that she could put Stark though.

"Everybody in?" Stark asked, looking around at the faces of his audience. When silence greeted his question, he clapped his hands again. "Great! Then divide into your teams."

"I want Clint." Natasha said quickly, at the exact same time that Clint asked for her.

"Wonder Twins, great!" Stark nodded, turning to Thor, who in turn looked to Banner.

"Would you like to be my partner?" Thor asked in a deep voice.

"Sure," Banner shrugged.

Steve looked around. "Um, Stark, if you aren't playing, I think you need to check your math."

"Course I don't!" Stark said cheerfully, "You get Pepper!"

She spluttered. "Excuse me?"

Tony gave her a playful little tug on her braid. "Aw, come on Pepper," he whispered. "You cant think of just one little thing you want me to do?"

"Oh, I can think of a whole stack of things," she muttered, before casting a quick glance at Steve. "Oh, alright. I'll play your ridiculous game."

Stark beamed. "Then all that's left is for you to select your weapons!"

Everyone moved rather loathingly towards the lightsabers, sifting through them half-heartedly. Clint took a blue one, Natasha a green one, Pepper a purple double-sided one, Steve a green one, and Thor and Bruce were left with two plastic Boadhead swords.

"I apologize for that," Stark said as Thor and Bruce held up their swords questioningly. "The toy store ran out of lightsabers."

Upon Stark's guidance, he sent each team to different levels so that they would be forced to hunt each other down, and then sent them a countdown via Jarvis.

When the countdown reached zero, they all took off, and competitive instinct took over.

Whistling slightly to himself, Stark leaned back in his chair and watched each team's movements over the security cameras, swinging lightly in his hand a red lightsaber that he had kept separated from the bunch just for himself, mentally making bets on who would win.

Natasha and Clint moved as one, entering and clearing rooms with military precision and on noiseless feet, years of practice making them the perfect team.

Steve and Pepper moved down the hallways with a little less ease, Steve obviously taking the lead and protective role, while Pepper watched his back with an unsure air.

Thor and Banner were more careless in their actions, Banner opening and closing doors as he peered into rooms, his lightsaber closed and hanging loosely in his hand, while Thor strolled loudly down the corridor in an offensive, devil-may-care attitude, a large boyish grin playing on his face.

"I cant believe we are doing this..." Stark heard Natasha whisper to Clint, who replied with a noncommittal "hmm".

"_Lightsabers_! The Придурок... Всезнайка лень" she muttered in Russian, and Clint cracked up, though hastily stifling his laughter into a smile as Natasha punched him in the ribs telling him to "shut up".

"Just think of all the revenge you can reek if we win, though." Clint mumbled, peering around a corner.

"That's the _first_ thing I thought of." Was her fierce reply, and she looked up directly into the face of a camera.

Stark was beginning to think that maybe the lightsabers weren't such a good idea after all.

Still, the sight was pretty priceless. He would probably keep the camera recordings for blackmail later.

On the camera, Stark could see that Steve and Pepper were nearing the same room that Natasha and Clint were currently clearing, and sat on the edge of his seat in eager anticipation of the turnout.

Inside the room, Clint's sharp ears picked up the on the sound of Pepper whispering to Steve out in the corridor, and motioning to Natasha, the two assassins disappeared up in the air ducts in a matter of seconds.

Only to jump down upon the opposing team out in the corridor, trapping Steve and Pepper in between them.

Steve immediately went on the offensive, fighting hard against Clint, his immediate threat, who parried the blows effortlessly and returned some of his own. When Clint moved to block a high blow, Steve kicked him hard in his exposed stomach sending Clint sprawling back a few paces down the corridor.

Steve, without wasting an instant, turned to defend Pepper from Natasha who was attacking on the other side, and who Pepper had held at bay for this long only because she was thrashing wildly in her direction with her double-sided lightsaber.

Natasha was forced to stay back out of arms reach, but she stood slightly crouched like a tigress about to pounce, waiting for an opening.

When she saw Steve turn away from Clint and make a move towards her, she thought fast and feinted to the right as Pepper's lightsaber whizzed by her head, before diving through the space between Pepper's body and the wall. Pepper instinctively swung her lightsaber after Natasha's head, but as her weapon was double-sided and Natasha was too quick, she only succeeded in whacking Steve in the back of the head, eliminating her own teammate.

With a roll, Natasha slipped underneath Steve's legs, tapping him lightly with her lightsaber just to be on the safe side before breaking into a run beside Clint down the hallway, disappearing from view around the corner.

Stark couldn't stop laughing as he watched Steve, bent over with laughter himself, and Pepper apologizing furiously, her face crimson but the smallest hint of a smile playing across her face as she realized the humor of the situation.

"Two down, two to go!" Clint cried with a grin, as him and Natasha once more disappeared up into the air ducts, evidently settling on a more offensive approach, planning to eliminate Thor and Bruce so that they could have all the time in the world to find the small Tesseract Stark had hidden somewhere inside the tower.

With Clint and Natasha out of camera view, and Steve and Pepper doing nothing but sitting on the floor laughing, Stark turned his attention upon Thor and Bruce.

They were, he noticed, actually about six doors down from the room where he had placed the Tesseract on a window ledge. Bruce was following Thor's hulking form placidly, who was stomping down the halls, literally shouting out at the top of his lungs for the others to "come and fight him".

In a brief space of silence, Thor having to stop for breath, Bruce's attention was attracted by a slight_ thud_ somewhere in the ceiling above him.

"Um," he said laying a hand on Thor's massive forearm and pointing up at the ceiling, "I think they heard you."

The words had hardly escaped his mouth when a panel on the ceiling a few paces down the hallway slid open, and Clint and Natasha dropped to the floor like cats.

When Thor saw them, his face erupted into an eager, boyish grin, and with a earth-shaking battle cry, he charged towards them.

Both the famous Black Widow's and Hawkeye's eyes widened a little in fear, its true, as yours would too if you saw the massive form of the God of Thunder, barreling towards you at full speed while screaming bloody murder, a literal blood-lust in shining in his eyes.

In a flash he was upon them, swinging his plastic sword erratically and with incredible force, taking on both of them at the same time and holding his own just by sheer strength.

When Bruce saw the battle raging in the corridor, he quickly scurried into the nearest room.

Out of sight, out of mind. Or so he hoped.

Natasha, however, had seen his escape, and knowing that to take down Bruce would be the easiest way to eliminate Thor, she communicated this to Clint with merely one word: "Bruce!" she cried, as both her and Clint combined their strength to block a staggering blow from Thor, still stumbling back a few steps all the same.

He nodded, immediately comprehending her train of thought.

With a little help from Clint, Natasha managed to slip past the raging Thor, and quickly disappeared into the room following Bruce.

Clint took one look at the God of Thunder before him, his eyes sweeping over everything from his towering height, bulging muscles, and eager, glistening eyes, before muttering a curse and taking off down the hallway, Thor in hot pursuit.

Not that Clint was a coward, he was just smart enough to realize that there was no way he could ever win in a test of strength against this Demigod. Better to keep him distracted till Natasha could finish off Bruce and eliminate any competition for the Tesseract.

If he had his bow, on the other hand, that would be a different matter.

Meanwhile, Natasha crept cautiously into the darkened room.

Bruce stood in the middle of the room, his back to her, staring at the windowsill where a small miniature Tesseract sat on its edge, glowing like the real thing. He was staring at it as if mesmerized, lost in a flashback where broken memories of "the other guy" assaulted him. It looked so real, like it was coming back to haunt him, and he had to keep telling himself that it was fake; just a toy. This trance was broken however when he heard the creak of a floorboard behind him.

Whirling around he turned to face Natasha, who was watching him carefully.

Immediately he held up his hands. "I don't want to fight." he said taking a step back.

"I know," she said quietly, her face unreadable. "You take it. You take the Tesseract." and she nodded her head towards the glowing object on the window sill.

Bruce glanced from the cube to her face, his eyes questioning.

"Go on." she encouraged, "You deserve it."

Slowly his turned his back on her and walked towards the cube, stretching out his hand for it but hesitating.

_Its not real,_ he told himself, before snatching it up all in a rush.

"Bruce and Thor win!" came Stark's voice over the loud speaker, and when Bruce turned around to face Natasha, the Tesseract in hand, she had vanished like a wraith from the room.

Two levels down in the training gym among the obstacle course, Clint was perched high up on the beams in the ceiling while Thor ran about trying to find a way to reach him.

Clint let out a breath when Stark's voice was heard announcing the end of the game.

"You hear that, buddy?" he called down to Thor, who was still looking up at him like a cat looks up at a bird out of reach. "Game over. You win. Why don't you put down the sword now?"

A disappointed frown came across Thor's face, but he slowly lowered the sword, and Clint, in response, began carefully picking his way back down among the rafters, still eyeing Thor uneasily.

He felt a little more comfortable when Natasha sauntered into the room, taking in the scene with an amused smile and raised eyebrow at Clint, who replied with a quick "don't you dare say a word," and shot her a silencing glare.

Her smug smile deepened, but she remained silent.

When he reached the opposite end, Clint took a flying leap into the air, sailing across the room, Natasha calling out a mocking hawk cry in the short space of his flight, before he latched onto a rope that ran from the ceiling down to the floor, and slid down it with practiced ease till his boots met the mats.

As Clint walked past Thor, the man made a move as if to pounce on him and Clint instinctively jumped back instantly on the defensive, but then Thor erupted into a bellow of laughter and clapped the wary assassin on the back.

"You, my friend," he roared good-naturedly, "are as quick as an antelope and as agile as a cat!"

Clint attempted a smile. "Um, thank you? You're very..." he looked the form that towered over him up and down. "_Big._" he finished, widening his eyes for effect.

Thor's laughter was deafening as he walked out of the gym, on his way to find Bruce and congratulate him.

Clint turned to Natasha. "What happened?" he cried, referring to Bruce beating her to the cube, and possibly even beating _her_, as far as he knew.

The Black Widow shrugged, walking out of the gym with her partner. "He needed the closure."

* * *

Once more collected in the recreational level, the team chatted and laughed over recent events, the battered toy swords and lightsabers in a pile on the table.

Contrary to the initial popular opinion, the game orchestrated by Stark had been a success—in some strange unaccountable way—and now the team felt closer, and yes, more connected as each person relayed the part that they had played in the game, often with many embellishments, but to the general enjoyment of everyone present.

Suddenly Stark cleared his throat loudly, effectively silencing the room.

"As promised," he began, spreading his hands in a magnanimous way, "both Thor and Bruce, as a reward for conquering all by finding and retrieving the cube, get to make one wish, or command, that I hereby promise in front of you all to fulfill. Bruce?" and he turned to the seated doctor.

"I have everything that I need," was his quiet reply. "I give my wish to Natasha." and he turned to the surprised assassin with a thankful glance.

Stark frowned, a little worried. "Um, Thor?" he said, turning to the Thunder God with a slightly hopeful glance.

Thor laughed. "I also am satisfied," he spoke with a mellow smile. "I give my reward to my worthy opponent, Clint Barton."

Now Stark was really worried, and the dark smiles on the faces of the two assassins did nothing to relay his fears.

"Um, I'm pretty sure that's not allowed." he stammered, at the deadly wink Natasha gave him.

Everyone in the room though, seemed to back up both Thor and Bruce's decisions.

"You made no rule against it." was Steve's casual reply, as he settled back into the deep cushions of the couch.

Panicked, Stark looked around him at the resigned faces, his mouth frantically trying to find excuses, but Natasha stood and walked over to him grabbing his collar and dragging him towards the pool.

"Let's go for a swim," she said, smiling sweetly. "Care to join us, Clint?"

Hawkeye grinned cheekily, and leaping over the couch, fell into step beside Natasha.

"A wonderful idea," he said with equal calm, looping his arm through Stark's.

Poor Stark took one look at the faces of the two assassins, before turning to the crowd that was gleefully watching by the couches.

"Help!"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Whoa, this turned out a lot longer than I originally intended...**

**Hope you liked it! Tell me what you think in the reviews.**

**Don't forget to send me a PM or write a review if you have an idea for your own One Shot!**


	4. Let's Get This Party Started

**A/N:**

**So you guys are amazing! Have I mentioned that? Cause you are! I have been flooded with awesome feedback and ideas and had some serious fandom conversations with a bunch of y'all, so keep up the good work!**

**This One Shot is a personal favorite of mine, and is actually a combination of many of your guy's ideas. I hope you enjoy it, cause it made me smile just writing it.**

**Idea Benefactors: ****FanFictionQueen1****, ****James****, and ****LittleMermade****.**

**FanFictionQueen1 ****said:**

**_"Remember when Tony was eating those blueberries on the helicarrier? Well, some of is were wondering, what kind of blueberries come on bags?! And then I thought, well the chocolate covered kind of course!  
So then we had Tony being in love with chocolate covered blueberries. And Tony trying to convince Pepper how amazing they were. And Tony buying the chocolate covered blueberry production plant factory thing. And Pepper being annoyed. And Tony eating too many chocolate covered blueberries. And Tony getting a stomachache. And Pepper laughing at him. And then Thor taking all the chocolate covered fruit and hoarding it (except when sharing with Jane. And maybe Darcy).  
And yeah. :D"_**

**James ****said:**

**_"So please continue writing a lot about Sharon and Captain Rogers. Other than that, just make it funny. Here's an idea. Have Pepper think another guy is cute and Tony get protective jealous. Remember when Phil showed up? "His first name is Agent!" LOL"_**

**LittleMermade ****said:**

**_"Hmmm... Ideas. You could maybe describe a party Tony is hosting in Avengers Tower that night, so you could also keep Sharon's POV.(because I like her a lot in comics and movies ;p)  
You can describe things a little funny (just imagine what they would all think of parties like Tony's ;)). And if you run out of ideas you can add a little drama. Maybe some of the characters argue about something or Hydra people try to attack the Avengers while they don't expect it."_**

**So there you have it!**

**Tamealio ****and ****queenlmno****, I'm sorry you guys, but yours will come next time!**

**Enjoy all, and to my Idea Benefactor's: I hope you like my spin on things. :)**

* * *

"I swear if you crinkle that bag one more time..."

Pepper moaned and put her aching head in her hands, bent over a desk strewn with papers, all of which called for her attention.

This statement was greeted by another round of plastic crinkling, louder this time than all of the rest, and Pepper slammed her hands forcefully on the desk and turned around to face the couch.

Tony sprawled leisurely upon it, his feet propped up on the corner of the desk, crushing a small plastic packing bag into a ball between his hands. He stopped guiltily when Pepper whirled around to face him, her eyes blazing.

"I'm done!" he cried defensively. "Just throwing the bag away..." And he twisted in his seat, lobbing the bag in an arch as it sailed across the room, landing perfectly in the trash can in the far corner.

He crowed triumphantly at his success, turning to Pepper with a smile—one that quickly faded when he saw her face.

"Wait...You finished the entire bag?!" She glared at him open mouthed. "_Again! _Thats _three _bags! You've eaten _three _bags of Chocolate-Covered Blueberries since _this morning_!"

Tony blinked innocently. "What? They're good!" He held up a chocolate-covered blueberry from a small pile resting in the folds of his shirt, pinching it in between two fingers as he examined it with a connoisseur's attention to detail. "Heck, these things are _amazing_..." And he popped the blueberry into his mouth.

"I doubt it." Pepper murmured, as she frowned at the paper she held in her hand.

That was all the prompting Tony needed, and in a flash he was inches away from her holding out a blueberry.

"Open your mouth," he ordered.

"No, I'm not going to—" she was cut short as Tony popped the blueberry into her open mouth.

He waited expectantly. She chewed.

"I don't see what's so great about these." she said honestly.

Tony frowned and sat back on the desk. "They're good!" he cried in an injured tone.

"I beg to differ."

"Well at least they're good for me..." he muttered.

Pepper shook her head. "They're not, actually."

"Blueberries!" he cried, as if to prove a point.

"Chocolate," Pepper affirmed.

Tony frowned, thinking it over.

"I'm Iron Man." he grumbled, plopping back on the couch and burrowing his body deep into the cushions, evidently realizing that Pepper was right.

"Mmhmm. And Iron Man is going to have a stomachache tonight." she said, turning back to her papers.

Tony frowned, not liking the fact that she won this argument, and popped another chocolate-covered blueberry into his mouth as an act of defiance.

"I'm thinking about hosting a party tonight. That okay with you?" he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Tonight? A little premature, don't you think?" Pepper muttered without looking up from her papers.

Tony shrugged. "You in or not?"

"Fine," she sighed, rolling her eyes.

Tony smiled triumphantly. "Jarvis," he said, speaking to the AI.

"Yes sir?"

"Invite my usual party rabble, and start on the preparations."

"Of course sir."

Pepper put down her papers and began typing something on a virtual keyboard that appeared on her desk at her command.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked, trying to read what she was writing.

"This isn't Stark Tower anymore," she explained, "grabbing" the holographic message and throwing it across the room were it disappeared into thin air. "If you're going to have a party tonight, you need to tell the others first. And I'm just assuming that you haven't cleared it with them yet."

She was learning.

Tony groaned, awaiting the inevitable. In three minutes time, it came bursting through the door.

"You're having a party tonight?!" Natasha practically screamed at him, Clint trailing along at her heels. "_Tonight_! And you didn't think to ask us first?! Not a chance!"

"The invitations have already been sent out, and Jarvis is setting up." Tony replied with a sigh, his hand covering his face.

"Well then you can tell Jarvis to _cancel_ the reservation."

Natasha was really in a biting mood today.

"This is my building." Tony replied, instantly regretting his words as Natasha made a move towards him.

But Clint grabbed her arm and held her back, bending his head so that was forced to look at him.

She frowned into his eyes, but at his look, all outward appearances of anger instantly vanished from her face, evaporating into a stony mask made completely unreadable by years of practice and training.

She was learning.

"Look, do we have to have a party _tonight?_" Clint asked calmly.

Tony opened his mouth to reply, when Thor burst in.

"You are hosting a banquet?" he cried in loud enthusiasm. "May I invite Jane?"

Tony cocked an eyebrow at Natasha and pointed to Thor. "See? He thinks its a good idea!" Then, turning to Thor: "Jarvis, send out an invitation to Jane Foster."

"I just did, sir." was Jarvis's reply, and Thor beamed.

"So you're really going through with this party thing, huh?" Bruce said, as he had quietly entered the room and watched the scene. "What time are we talking here?"

"I was thinking 7:00," Tony replied.

Steve also entered shortly after. "A party tonight? Really Stark?" he ejaculated, his arms folded.

Tony threw up his hands and fell back on the couch. "And now there's Rogers. Great. Anyone else?" he cried out sarcastically.

"Well, I would just like to know whether this will be a _party_ party, or a passed-out-on-the-floor-orgy party." Steve shot back, matching Tony's tone. "Because we all know what type of "party" _your guests_ like."

Tony suddenly bolted up from his seat, staring down Steve who didn't even blink and maintained his casual air.

"You know what," Tony said spreading his hands, "invite _whoever_ you want."

Steve cocked a sarcastic eyebrow. "Whoever I want? Really?"

"Whoever you want." And Tony collapsed back onto the couch.

"Okay...So, I'll be sure shine my shoes before 7:00." Bruce joked, looking anxiously from Steve to Tony, always one to feel uncomfortable around conflict.

And can anyone blame him?

The gathering quickly dispersed after that, each going on their separate ways. Clint, Natasha, and Steve happened to walk down the same hallway.

"You gonna invite Sharon?" Natasha asked Steve, flashing him a look and arching a perfect eyebrow.

Steve ignored the implying glance, keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him as he answered in a casual tone.

"I was thinking about seeing if she's free tonight, yeah."

Natasha gave Clint a slight underhand nudge, and the two exchanged knowing glances.

"The two of you seem to be getting along well together." She continued in a nonchalant manner. "A good call on my part, if you ask me..."

Steve suddenly halted, turning to face Natasha.

"I didn't ask. And yes, I do enjoy her company. She's a good person. However," he continued in a whisper, "its also none of your business."

And with that he flashed an overly sweet smile, before turning and walking away down the hallway. Both Clint and Natasha watched as he rounded the corner, disappearing from view.

"Oh, he's got it bad..." Clint drawled, when Steve was out of earshot, and Natasha gave an agreeing little chuckle.

* * *

"Tony," Pepper suddenly cried out in a slightly worried tone, as she entered the room where Tony, Bruce, and Thor sat on a circular couch surrounding a small table where they were playing Scrabble—most of the board occupied by words with more than seven letters, and whose meaning was lost on a better part of the world.

The scoring for each player was off the charts, Bruce taking a slight lead.

"What's up Pepper?" Tony mumbled without looking up from his tray of letters.

"_What_," she said slowly, emphasizing each word as she held out a legal looking document for Tony to see, "is _this_?"

Tony glanced at the paper, before casually passing it back to her and turning back to his game.

"It's a deed." he said simply.

"A deed to a _Chocolate-Covered Blueberry _factory?"

"Yeah, what's wrong?"

"What's _wrong?_?"

It looked like Pepper was trying very hard to stay calm.

"What's wrong?!" she repeated. "You bought a _factory_ that produces your crazed blueberry fetish!"

"Do not diss on the chocolate-covered blueberries. They are life changing." was Tony's casual reply, his laid back air only infuriating Pepper all the more.

"That they are, my friend!" Thor suddenly piped up from the couch, brandishing a large serving bowl that was filled with the culprit and which Thor had transferred to his lap during the game.

Pepper looked from Thor to Tony, her mouth slightly agape, and her astonished gaze finally settling on Bruce, who held up his hands defensively.

"Hey, don't look at me," he cried, "I'm just here to play Scrabble."

Pepper shifted her armor piercing gaze back to Tony's back, who try as he might, squirmed a little uncomfortably under her eyes.

"Oh, okay," she said in a biting tone, accompanied with a dry humorless laugh. "Okay, let's look at the fine print shall we?"

She shifted the paper in her hands and peered at it.

"It says here that the factory produces, on its lowest function, up to 150 _boxes_ of your blueberry candies _a day._" She paused for effect. "How on earth, do you plan to consume 12,600 bags of chocolate-covered blueberries in a _week_ on a regular basis?"

Silence followed this ejaculation.

"No more midnight snack runs," Tony mumbled cheerily as he placed his word on the board.

"Not a problem," Thor said loudly to Pepper, as he trickled another handful of the treat into his mouth.

"That's a lot of blueberries..." Bruce muttered under his breath, as he counted up Stark's score and wrote it down.

Poor Pepper blinked and stared.

"Have fun with your chocolate-blueberry-induced coma." She finally shot back, before stalking out of the room.

When she was gone, Tony and Thor both dove their hands into the bowl for another handful.

* * *

"I don't know why I don't rent an apartment on the edge of town, so I don't have to deal with this crap." Natasha muttered darkly to Clint, as they sat in armchairs beside the pool in the rec room, awaiting the arrival of Tony's guests for the party.

Everyone except Steve was milling about in different parts of the room, each of them slightly dressed up, while the room itself bore festive decorations and party tables with ambient music and low lighting.

Clint and Natasha had wandered off to the shadows in the corner of the room by the pool.

"I hate parties." Natasha muttered under her breath, as she smoothed the folds of her black cocktail dress and adjusted her hair, her red curls done up in a 40's hairstyle that perfectly complimented her face and form.

"You know why..." Clint said in a low tone, as he unlaced his boots, referring to her previous words. He himself was wearing dark jeans and a dress shirt, covered up by an expensive leather jacket. "You say you want to leave, but you never will, at least not willingly."  
Natasha raised an amused eyebrow at this, but waited for him to continue.

"The weapons room, the sparring mat, the firing range with the moving holographic targets, the obstacle course..." Clint listed on his fingers all of Natasha's favorite assets of Avengers Tower.

"And," he continued, as he rolled his pant legs up to his knees and eased his feet into the pool, much to Natasha's amusement. "lets not forget the most important thing."

"And what's that?" she asked, smirking at his incorrigible laidback attitude that never changed, no matter what mortal situation they got themselves into.

That was one of the reasons why she liked him so much.

"You'd miss me." Clint replied in a casual tone with a completely straight face.

Natasha gave him a punch in the shoulder that almost sent him in the water, but Clint laughed and she smiled despite herself.

At that moment, Jane Foster entered the room, going over to kiss Thor, signaling, as it seemed, the arrival of all of the other guests.

And the party began—though for a long time both Clint and Natasha stayed in the shadows by the pool, in the perfect spot to see without being observed themselves, slipping unnoticed into the crowd when they were ready.

Still Steve was absent.

The previous owner of the Chocolate-Covered Blueberry factory however, was not.

"Who is that man?" Pepper asked Tony in a whisper, as she leaned on his arm. She was dressed in a semiformal navy blue maxi dress, while the exact same shade of blue was sampled on the kerchief in Stark's lapel of his tailored suit, and on the dapper bowtie at his collar.

"That," Tony answered, matching her tone and voice level, "is Marcus Farley."

Pepper faced him. "Marcus Farley? Farley as in _Farley inc._, the owner of that awful blueberry factory?"

Tony smiled. "_Previous _owner, yes. I thought it would be best to get to know the guy, seeing as we are now business partners, which reminds me: there is still some paperwork that needs to be done up, and as CEO of Stark Industries I hoped you would do the honors."

Pepper felt like smacking that winning smile right off his face, but restrained herself in the presence of guests. By now she had learned to control her temper, that was often tested by Stark, and could mask her feelings well while putting on a show of the easy hostess, or the levelheaded businesswoman.

Living with the Black Widow had its benefits.

By this time, Tony had already signaled the man over, and Marcus Farley was greeted with her best hostess smile and Tony's firm handshake.

"Mr. Farley, may I introduce you to Miss Pepper Pots, CEO of Stark Industries and Chief Executive Officer of my heart."

Pepper blushed and exchanged handshakes with the man, who was a tall man with a strong handsome build.

She might have forgiven Tony just a little bit.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Farley. I understand that Tony here has bought your factory."

That sparked a conversation that ran on its course for a full ten minutes before Marcus Farley finally parted with them to get a drink from the bar.

"I like him," Pepper murmured to Tony when he had walked out of earshot. "There's something pleasant about his mouth when he talks, and his eyes..." she trailed off, still staring at the back of the previous factory owner.

"You do realize I'm standing right here?" Tony said with a frown, looking from Pepper to Farley.

"Mmhmm."

Tony's frown deepened.

It was at that moment, that Steve Rogers joined the party, dressed in a conservative brown leather jacket, and bringing his own with him.

By his side walked Agent Sharon Carter, pretty in a lacy white dress, her blonde hair drawn up into a braided bun, and marching behind him military fashion was a full two dozen kids.

Their ages varied from six to nine, and every one of them was dressed in the costume of their favorite Avenger.

Steve stopped and turned to the procession of children behind him, all standing erect in three straight lines, like little soldiers awaiting orders. Steve himself had a mock commanding attitude, though no one could miss the fondness in his eyes as he surveyed his little army.

"Attention!" he cried like a drill sergeant, and the little forms before him straightened even more, their faces laughably serious. "You are all here courtesy of Mr. Tony Stark, and I expect you to behave accordingly." To keep up his ruse, Steve began pacing in front of the kids standing at attention, his hands clasped behind his back like a true general. "There will be no screaming, no fighting, no running around the pool, and you will always listen to your elders. If you need anything, you ask any of the Avengers. Am I clear?"

A chorus of high pitched "yes sir's" resounded throughout the room, accompanied by salutes.

Steve nodded before straightening. "Dismissed!" he cried, and the little forms broke rank and descended upon the smiling crowd of guests bellow, excited little shrieks of joy and laughter escaping them at their greatest dream coming true.

"What is this?" Tony asked Steve as he walked past him, motioning to the packs of little children who were slipping between the legs of the other guests.

"These are our biggest fans." Steve said, a small smile forming on his lips as he watched a little boy dressed up like Captain America run past. "I got a letter from a little boy telling me about his fan club, and how their biggest dream was to come see us." He shrugged. "You said I could invite whoever I wanted."

Tony was silent for a moment. He had never been one for kids, but his eyes softened a little as they landed on a boy that was obviously pretending to be Iron Man.

"That I did, that I did." he nodded.

Sharon came to stand beside Rogers, her hand brushing his.

"This is truly something wonderful, Steve." she said softly, looking about her. "You just made the dreams of all of these kids come true."

Steve blushed and smiled happily, his hand shifting ever so slightly to intertwine his fingers between hers in a covert motion.

One that only Natasha noticed, with smug satisfaction.

"Why do they call you the Black Widow?" said a small voice at her feet.

She started and looked down upon a small girl with nut brown hair wearing a black catsuit like hers. Her perceptive little eyes were a stormy blue.

_Blue like Clint's_, was Natasha's immediate thought.

"Um, I don't know..." was her hesitant answer.

Of course she knew why, but that was not something you tell a little kid.

"Is it because you're like the spider?" was the girls persistent response.

"Yeah, something like that."

Kids were never her strong suit—she would feel more comfortable in the middle of a firefight. Clint, on the other hand, she knew to be an instant favorite among them.

"Your hair is so pretty!" was the breathy little confession from her mini me, and the girl climbed up on the couch to sit beside her, her delicate little hands hovering over the elegant up-do in an awestruck manner.

A little of Natasha's stiffness left her, and with swift fingers she pulled out the pins in her hair and shook it loose so that it fell about her shoulders in curls, which drew a delighted little squeal from her admirer.

"What's your name?" she asked the girl.

"Lily," was the whispered answer.

"Do you know how to braid hair, Lily?"

The girls face lit up. "Oh, yes!" she said proudly, "I know all sorts of braids! My mamma taught me how do her hair."

Natasha smiled a little. "Well Lily, will you braid mine?"

The girl gasped. "Can I really?"

Natasha nodded encouragingly, and Lily was perched behind her in an instant, fingering her bright red curls lovingly.

"When I grow up," Lily whispered sweetly as her small fingers moved expertly through Natasha's hair, beginning on an elaborate Dutch braid. "I want to be just like you."

Natasha was too stunned to answer.

A thousand thoughts and emotions barraged her mind, the chief of which was the pang of regret, guilt, and pain as she realized that she was nothing compared to this innocent and impressionable little girl, and that she was the last person worthy to be a life model.

"You know what I want you to be when you grow up?" Natasha whispered, almost on the brink of tears. The little fingers passing through her hair halted expectantly. "I want you to be just like _you._"

The girl thought about this for a moment, before Natasha felt her fingers move again.

At that moment, Clint came barreling into view, two little girls squealing delightedly as they rode on his back, all three of them fleeing from a pack of boys dressed up like their various male heroes. A little mini Iron Man fired a fake "blaster" out of his wrist rockets, and Clint stumbled, clutching his stomach as if he had been shot there.

"Oh," he moaned in mock agony, "I've been shot! Ah!"

He stumbled about dramatically, finally collapsing on the couch beside Natasha and Lily, much to the excited shrieks of the two little girls on his back.

"Mother!" he gasped in a wheezy voice, stretching out his hand, while little giggles accompanied his theatrics. "I see the light!" And with that he gave one last dramatic wheeze, before going limp against the pillows.

The boys crowed triumphantly, and the two girls climbed out from under Clint and came to rest on his chest, clutching his face between their two little hands.

"He's dead!" they gasped, "Quick, how can we save him?" they cried in unison to Natasha, who had been watching the scene amusedly.

"Oh, I know how to wake him up." Natasha affirmed, with a mischievous tone that made Clint cock open a wary eye, before quickly shutting it again as he was supposed to be "dead".

The girls came close and Natasha whispered something into their ears that made them giggle, and made Clint frown slightly, his eye flashing open again.

Still giggling and with delighted anticipation on their faces, they scurried on top of his chest again and took up a position: one facing his knees, and the other his arms.

"Tickle fight!" they suddenly shrieked, and began tickling him in all the sensitive areas that Natasha had outlined for them. Clint started up with a cry and began defending himself by tickling them back, all three of them laughing their heads off.

The boys, who had previously stood by and watched like triumphant Caesars, now joined in the fun, dog pilling on Clint with joyful shouts and battle cries, while Lily and Natasha laughed as they watched the scene, occasionally launching pillows at the attackers.

* * *

"Oh, my stomach!" Tony moaned, as he clutched the offending organ.

It was after the party, and all of the guests except for Sharon and Jane had left, Sharon talking quietly with Steve by the bar, while Jane was curled up sound asleep against Thor on one of the couches, who was talking in hushed whispers with Bruce, still munching on the chocolate-covered blueberries that had been set out as one of the party favors.

"I told you so," Pepper chided, as she passed a mug of soothing tea to Stark. "But of course you're Iron Man as well as Iron Constitution, so you just had to go ahead and buy that factory. Which reminds me: I would like to Marcus Farley over for dinner sometime."

Tony choked on his tea. "Why?!" he ejaculated.

Pepper promptly snagged a napkin and began wiping the areas were Tony had spilt tea over himself in a very familiar way.

"Because _someone_ had the great idea of wanting to get to know him better." Was her overly sweet response, her face rather close to his.

"You know," Tony began, grimacing as he took another sip of his tea. "I'm starting to have second thoughts about that factory idea."

Pepper leaned in closer, while at the same time producing a folded paper from her person that was the factory deed, which she promptly ripped into shreds.

"Mmm, I knew you would." she whispered, before closing the gap between them and kissing him, an act that was reciprocated.

Thor, who had been eavesdropping, slyly picked up the bowl that contained the remnants of the chocolate-covered blueberries, and hid it under the couch by his feet for later.

* * *

**A/N:**

**So? Did you guys like it? I know I did!**

**Don't forget to write me a review or send me a PM if you have an idea!**


	5. I've Always Got Your Back

**A/N:**

**Hello again!**

**I absolutely _love _how I can post a One Shot and get a review about every 30 minutes! Keep up the good work! Also the more ideas I get, the faster I post a One Shot as I usually wait till there are a few out there before I start. So keep them coming as well!**

**Tamealio, this one's for you. (And any other Clintasha fans out there) :)**

**All the rest of you guys: yours will be out in the next one which is currently under construction; I just needed to post this as a catalyst of sorts. (You'll understand what I mean when I post it)**

**Anyways, hope y'all enjoy, and keep being the awesome fans you are!**

* * *

Natasha wasn't at the gym that morning.

That was Clint's first warning that something was up.

He took his time going through his own workout and training regime, waiting for her. Even went through countless sessions in the "Kill Box", as Natasha and he had dubbed the large box-like firing range where holographic human forms would appear at random times and places, all trying to "kill" whoever was in the simulation.

It had five different difficulty levels, and was a grueling training exercise that kept you constantly on your toes and on the defensive, thereby both his and Natasha's favorite.

If either one of them ever was hit by one of the "holo's" trying to kill them, they would feel an incredibly painful burning sensation in that area, the effects often lasting for upwards of two hours.

It was in this simulation that Clint spent his time, still waiting for Natasha to show.

Three empty quivers later on difficulty level 4, (as it took both of them as a team to even have a chance to come out of level 5 untouched), Clint had finally had enough, and packed up to go see what the problem was.

On the dormitory level, he listened outside her door for a time and heard the telltale sound of the bathwater running.

That was wrong.

Natasha never took baths, and he was on the point of breaking down her door, when a thought struck him. Natasha never took baths, unless...

A quick check on his personal calendar back at his flat, confirmed his fears.

"Oh no, its today." Clint groaned, resting his head against the wall and muttering a curse.

Time to get to work.

Moving to his bookshelf, his slid back one of his numerous hidden panels in his room and took out a small black box. After peering inside to confirm its contents, he replaced the panel back on the wall and snagged a well-read Russian novel from off the bookshelf, before making his way back to Natasha's room two doors down from his own.

Setting the box and novel on the floor outside her door, he knocked twice before speedily disappearing up into the ventilation shaft directly above the hallway, slowing his breathing so that he didn't make a sound as he peered through the grating.

After a couple seconds the door opened, and a robed Natasha poked her head out. She noticed the items on the floor, and stooping, she picked them up, her eyes lighting up as she read the Cyrillic title on the novel that she quickly recognized as a favorite.

She opened the box, and a small delighted gasp escaped her as she unearthed its contents, weighing them in the flat of her palm.

She held two large bars of traditional Russian "Alenka" chocolate, imported all the way from Mother Russia herself.

Natasha quickly scanned the hallways for traces of who might have left the gift, but she already knew who was behind it.

"How the hell does he know it's today?" she said out loud to herself.

Ripping open a corner of one of the bars, she smelled the chocolate inside and closed her eyes with happy sigh.

"Oh, thank you Clint," she whispered, with a faint smile, that made the man watching in the ventilation shaft feel like he finally could beat that Kill Box level 5 all by himself.

With one last glance down the hallways, Natasha took her gifts and went back inside her room, closing the door softly behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Clint dropped noiselessly to the floor and stood for a few moments outside her door.

"You're welcome, Tasha," he whispered to the empty hallway, before running soundlessly away.

* * *

Clint showed up in the kitchen at 8:30 exactly, and joined Pepper who was preparing a Dutch Puff for herself and Tony.

Fend-For-Yourself day.

"Where's Natasha?" Pepper asked, as she set the oven temperature, for Clint and Natasha usually arrived together after their hours spent in the gym.

"Oh, she's washing up." Clint said casually, telling only part of the truth, as he began on two gourmet omelets, being sure to add lots of dill in one.

That was another Russian thing: they put dill in _everything_.

Pepper nodded unsuspectingly, and slipped her baking pan full of Dutch Puff batter into the oven.

Tony and Steve soon joined them in the kitchen and also began doing their share of the cooking, Tony mounting his iPod on the speaker and giving the room a party-like aspect.

Thor and Bruce came next, and lastly Natasha, wearing comfy looking black skinny jeans and a loose white tunic, her still damp hair pulled back in a perfect Dutch braid.

The same style, Clint noticed, that Lily had done for her the night before.

While everyone chatted, talked, and laughed, Natasha was strangely quiet. Not that she was much of a talker to begin with, but Clint noticed the difference.

"Here," he said, passing the dill infused omelet to Natasha.

Their fingers brushed as she took it, and she was sure to make eye contact with him, her eyes looking at him questioningly, trying to gage his reaction and read his thoughts.

He tried to keep to keep a straight face, to not give her any clues, but Natasha was the one person he had ever met who could look past the best of his masks and see the truth.

"Thank you," she whispered in a voice so low that only he could hear, her lips barely moving and her eyes straight ahead as she passed by him, bumping into him slightly.

Clint smiled to himself, as he turned back to the stove to serve up his own omelet.

The first time he left chocolate and other things on her doorstep, Natasha had pinned him to the wall with a knife against his throat ordering him to tell her how he knew.

If she knew about that calendar in his flat she would kill him...

"Christmas is coming up," Pepper began conversationally. "Two weeks, actually. Do any of you have any plans? Anyone you want to invite? I was thinking about having a Christmas dinner here."

"I don't have any plans," Bruce said lightly, looking around at the others.

"Nor I," cried Thor, "Though Jane and I wanted spend time together."

"Invite her here!" Pepper exclaimed, smiling.

"Thank you, I think I might."

"Steve?"

Steve shrugged, "I don't got any plans. Would you mind if I invited Sharon?"

"Not at all! You could even have some of those kids come too, if you want." Pepper had loved last nights party surprise, and couldn't remember a party where she had had a better time, as she later told Tony.

Steve smiled. "We'll see..." he answered vaguely.

"I've got nothing," Clint said, joining the group at the table with his omelet, taking the available seat next to Tony. Then turning to Pepper. "I can help cook the Christmas dinner if you want."

Pepper smiled at the offer. "Thank you! I haven't yet decided if I'll just have the kitchen staff do the bulk of it, and maybe just make a dessert or something, but I'll let you know."

Clint nodded, and took a bite of his breakfast.

"What about you, Widow?" Tony said, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous look that Clint didn't like.

"You gonna invite your parents?" He laughed at his own joke, oblivious to the sudden silence and the way Natasha froze. "Or maybe a few friends from the Red Room?"

_Oh no._

Natasha's eyes steeled, and with a sudden movement, she flipped a knife out from her person and sent it flying towards Stark. Fortunately for Tony, Clint had been warned that something like this would happen from Stark's first "joke".

That and years of being on the other end.

His hand was already feeling for the frying pan behind him, when Natasha first produced her knife, and when she threw it, Clint put the frying pan between the blade and Stark's face like a shield.

The knife hit the pan with a loud _clang_ and clattered on the tabletop, its reverberations echoing through the deathly silent room.

Natasha stood so fast that her chair fell over, but she stalked out of the room without a word or a glance at anyone.

"What is _wrong_ with you?!" Clint shouted at Tony when she was gone, who blinked, shocked that she would take what he genuinely thought was a funny joke so seriously.

Clint could see by his face that he had meant no harm, but that still didn't make up for the fact that he had fired such a barb at Natasha. The problem was that he didn't _think _before he spoke.

"What's wrong with me?" Tony cried. "What's wrong with _her_! She tried to kill me!"

"You mocked her dead parents _and _her childhood!"

"I didn't know it was such a nerve!" Tony shouted defensively. "Why cant she just brush it off like the rest of us?"

"_Hello_! She's PMS-ing!" Clint cried heatedly, snapping his fingers under Stark's nose as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Before Tony could come up with a reply, Clint slammed the dented frying pan on the table and walked out of the room.

Out in the hallway, he stopped and took a breath, forcing himself to calm down.

Tony really couldn't have picked a worst time to pull a stunt like that.

An angry Natasha was scary. A PMS-ing Natasha was terrifying. But an angry PMS-ing Natasha?

You might as well shoot yourself now.

And after having to deal with it first hand on a reoccurring basis in a partnership like theirs, Clint finally started to do the smart thing and keep track of them.

Hence the hidden calendar back at his flat.

He made it his personal mission, when it came around to that time of month, to keep Natasha as happy as possible—the less chance that you'll end up with a knife in your throat like Stark here almost did—and to do damage control whenever somebody did have the misfortune to tick her off.

Like now.

He really did need to find her, and had a good guess where she would be.

Taking the elevator down to the training center, he walked into the gym and heard, as he had suspected, the loud hum the Kill Box made when it was in use.

Walking over by the entrance, he pressed a few buttons on a large panel, and in a few seconds the panel opened to reveal his bow and quiver, retrieved all the way from his flat where they were stored on a wall that could be transferred to this room just for this purpose.

Slipping on his quiver and armguards before grabbing his bow, Clint glanced at the Kill Box control panel before he entered.

The crazy woman was trying to survive level 5 all by herself.

With a press of a button, the soundproof door slid open, and Clint was suddenly barraged with the sounds of a literal warzone—the sight of Natasha standing in the center circle greeting his eyes, firing off a constant stream of bullets from her two Glocks at the overwhelming number of holo's trying to take her down with an assortment of virtual weapons.

A particular holo was about to bring its axe down on Natasha's head, unseen by her as it was in her blindside, but in the blink of an eye Clint had put an arrow through its throat, the form shattering into a thousand pixels upon contact.

Loosing another arrow at an approaching holo, Clint ran to the center circle where he joined Natasha and began fighting alongside her.

She didn't say a word at his sudden appearance, but she pressed her back against his, switching her tactics to their familiar partnership where they both moved as one, each of them watching the others back as they slowly rotated in a circle.

The fight was hard and insane, and when Natasha had finally stabbed the last holo with one of Clint's arrows after she ran out of bullets, they both had perspiration on their faces and were breathing hard.

They stood with their backs still pressed together for a moment as they caught their breath, before Natasha broke away and turned to him, slipping her empty cartridges in her belt to reload.

She didn't say anything, only looked at him.

"I've always got your back, Nat." Clint whispered, as he looked into her eyes.

She stared at him for a moment, her face a careful mask, before nodding, handing him back his arrow, and walking away.

* * *

**A/N:**

**To be continued... ;)**

**(Leave me reviews! You know I love them, and it only takes a few seconds!)**


	6. Sabotage

**A/N:**

**Gah! It's been so long since I updated! I've written this one shot about three times now, and it kept getting deleted for some reason, and after each time I was always loath to write it again. But here it is, conquered and ready for you to read! I hope you like this one, because I'm personally very proud of it. ;D**

**Idea Benefactors: Black Thorn, and slightly nancyozz.**

**Black Thorn****said:**

**_"Well I simply enjoyed this little one shots. how about  
Tony annoying the hell out of Natasha so she threatens him (and sends knives paper clips and so on flying occasionally) and Clint "punishing" him afterwards simply because he has to endure an annoyed Natasha. Or Natasha training with Pepper so she can defend herself and Natasha teaching her some tricks to keep Tony in line."_**

**nancyozz****said:**

**_"I would LOVE one where Tony and Clint pull pranks on each other because they are bored &amp; they try to one up each other...while Natasha and pepper bond over this and their significant others acting like idiots while also thinking it's funny ...though Natasha and Clint being BFF only works too...I never got the impression that Tony and Natasha liked each other at all...maybe this could also lead them to finally being on friendly terms ...would love for the pranks to go wrong and for Steve, Bruce and Thor getting the brunt of things...maybe Clint takes things too far when he somehow tricks Tony into thinking pepper is pregnant with Steve being the dad and all hell breaks out...maybe pepper truly is pregnant and has been waiting for the perfect moment to tell Tony but Clint doing this definitely steps on her moment."_**

* * *

Natasha and Tony still hadn't spoken to each other since breakfast, and in fact, no one had really seen Natasha, or Clint for that matter, at all.

Pepper kept pressing Tony to go find her and apologize, but with his usual stubbornness, he insisted that because she was the one who tried to put a knife through his throat, she was the one who should apologize, not him.

Not that it stopped him from trying to find the two assassins on the security cameras when no one was looking—with no luck. Tony even went so far as to ask Jarvis where they were, but even that came to no avail.

It wasn't the first time Clint had hacked into the AI's mainframe and changed Jarvis's settings. No matter how obscure the password Tony selected, the master archer always managed to find it out, and it was really starting to bother him.

Jarvis was like his son—it just wasn't natural that the AI should "not be able to comply with his order".

But with nothing else to do, and still refusing to own that he was wrong, Tony sat back to wait and see what would happen next.

"Yippekayaa!" A very southern male voice suddenly shrieked at a level that filled the room and made Tony jump. "I have fouuuuuuuund your frieeennds!" Tony whirled around trying to find the source of the noise, completely bewildered at how they could shout so _loud_. "The little red-haired missy: she's in her room! And Hawkbooooy, he's up on the roof!"

_Where is that _coming _from,_ Tony thought, covering his ears. There was absolutely no one in the room, and the vents were empty too, so who was...

_Oh. No._

"BARTON!" Tony screamed.

He'd done it. He'd finally done it. He killed Jarvis and replaced him with this _horrible_ redneck hillbilly cowboy of an AI.

Gritting his teeth, Tony took off for the elevator, his hand banging up and down on his thigh as he waited for the doors to close and for it to take him up to the roof level. It seemed to take an age, as the elevator slowly climbed higher, but Tony filled the space with muttering curses and death threats at Clint under his breath—a strange contrast to the gentle music that was playing.

At last the elevator doors opened with a _ding_ and Tony hurriedly stalked out of them, his head swiveling in all directions as he looked for the source of his grievance.

"Ah, there you are," a voice called out cheerfully, and Tony turned towards the sound.

High above the elevator entrance on the very top of the building by the satellites, his legs dangling over the edge, was perched Clint Barton, his face holding a contented calm, not even phased by the rough wind that battered his hair, the incredible drop that stretched below his feet, or even the angered billionaire who was glaring at him below.

"I was wondering when you would show up." he said with casual smile.

Tony's face turned red with anger. "_Fix him_. Fix. Him. _Right. Now._" he spat.

Clint sighed contentedly as he looked out at the incredible view that stretched out before him and below him. "Sure," he said lightly, turning back to Stark. "Right after you apologize to Natasha." he finished, his face and tone suddenly growing serious.

Tony spluttered. "I will _kill _you." he muttered darkly, but his threat lost a little bit of its direness as he was obviously afraid to climb up to where Barton was, not so much a fan of this mortal height without his suit on.

Clint just smiled. "Jarvis," he suddenly called out, "remind Mr. Stark where Natasha is so he knows where to find her to apologize."

"The red-haired dooooolllll of a lassie with that fiiiiiinneee—"

"SHUT UP!" Tony yelled, effectively silencing Jarvis.

Clint smiled calmly, obviously enjoying every second, as he looked down on Stark.

Tony's face was purple with rage, and he pointed a finger up at Clint, his mouth opening and closing as he fought for words. Finally he closed his mouth and dropped his hand. "I'll fix him myself….." He muttered darkly under his breath, stomping onto the elevator and pressing the down button repeatedly in a fruitless effort to make the doors close faster.

Clint merely sighed, and shifted his position on the rooftop ledge, looking out at the metropolis skyline with perfect content.

* * *

It was a full three hours later before Stark finally fixed Jarvis and brought him back to his proper British self. But even then, the AI seemed to have some loyalty issues, almost hinting at the fact that he favored Clint more that Stark. Something that Tony was horrified at, and spent another hour trying to fix, which he eventually did.

Still Natasha was absent.

The others living in Avengers Tower began to get a little nervous. After all, Natasha was not one you piss off lightly. When she got this angry….Anything was possible.

Anything.

However, they got extremely nervous when Clint walked into the Rec room shortly after Stark had finished reverting Jarvis. He was holding his bow in one hand and his quiver full of arrows in his other, staring down open-mouthed and speechless at both.

"Stark…." He said, in a voice slightly wavering in disbelief. "What. Have. You. Done?"

The man in question was currently sprawled leisurely out on the couch, the smuggest of grins on his face. "You don't mess with my stuff, I wont mess with yours." Stark said, nodding towards the weapons in Clint's hands.

Still in their place in Clint's quiver, were his precious arrows, each of them now covered in pink glitter with little pink bows tied to their ends, while in his hands lay his famed bow, now spray painted a vibrant hot pink.

Poor Clint stared at the emblems of his life in disbelief at their degradation to this level. He looked up at Stark again, his face an emotionless mask that equaled that of any of Natasha's, and everyone present held their breath, watching with wary curiosity at what would happen next.

However, any expectations they might have had at the outcome, were inexplicably shattered when Clint, without a word or a sign of any emotion to anyone, turned and left the room.

All eyes then turned on Stark, who ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw, a frown appearing on his face as he weighed in his mind what this action could mean for him. For he had had many expectations of what Clint's response to his counter sabotage would be, and the one he got, didn't even make the list.

One thing was for certain: It wouldn't be good.

It was a tense time in Avengers Tower.

Pepper was now officially giving Stark the silent treatment, Bruce was cautiously keeping to himself and everyone noticed that he kept his back to the wall whenever possible, Thor was loudly recounting various escapades he had gone on with his fellow Asgardian warriors in what everyone guessed was an attempt to lighten the mood, and Steve found himself pacing the hallways with his shield once more in its mount on his back, unable to bite back the feeling of vague reminiscence of that eerie calm that always precedes the havoc of a battle.

And they waited.

An anxious, covert check on the security cameras two hours later activated by Stark, revealed Clint's famed bow and quiver once more in their place beside his suit, their color and aspect now reverted back to their usual threatening black; yet still the master archer was nowhere to be seen.

"Jarvis, downgrade audio to headset." Tony said in a low tone so as not to be heard by the others, pulling the said headset on.

"_Switching to headset_." Jarvis responded, his crisp British accent coming through the earpiece. "_How can I assist you, sir?"_

"Locate Hawkeye."

"_Locating Hawkeye…."_

A moment of silence passed as Jarvis did his work, during which Tony absentmindedly tapped a beat on the tabletop with his fingertips as he looked out the window.

"_Hawkeye is currently in your personal armory, sir."_

"WHAT?!" Stark shouted, drawing the startled eyes of every head in the room. Tony, however, ignored them and rapidly moved to Pepper's desk.

"Jarvis, give me a video feed of the security cameras in my armory," he ordered, and a holographic screen obediently popped up before him suspended over the desk.

There on the screen, Clint Barton could be seen calmly setting a large box on the armory floor, happily whistling a tune as he dug through the contents. Coming up with a can of something, he straightened and approached the corner where the camera was mounted, tossing the can up into the air with skillful flips as he walked.

A moment later and his face loomed before the lens, taking up the space of the whole screen as Clint blew a kiss before raising the can, a steady line of spray paint starting in one corner and working it's way across the lens, until the entire screen was covered and all Tony could see was a vibrant purple.

Stark stared at the hologram, his mouth opening and closing as he fought for words, completely oblivious to the startled and curious looks the others assembled in the room were giving him, and when Steve opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, Tony took off out of the room.

He ran as fast as he could towards the elevator, skidding around corners and bouncing off walls till he reached it, frantically pressing the _Up _button in an attempt to bring the elevator down faster.

The elevator itself, however, seemed to have had other plans, as Stark waited at the doors for 30 agonizing seconds until finally giving up and running for the stairs.

No doubt Barton had stalled the shaft to buy himself more time to wreak more havoc upon his precious, his beautiful, his life's work and glorious suits, doing _who knows what_ to them now!

Panicking, Stark willed his legs to move faster, leaping up the stairs and taking them three at a time. He was currently on the 12th floor now, and his armory was located on the 29th floor. Just 17 more floors to go.

It was around the 20th floor that Stark's legs began to burn, his breath coming sharp and heavy, yet still he pushed himself on, the image of that purple screen burned into his mind and the possibility of what might be transpiring behind it spurring him on.

_At last_ he reached the 29th floor, and raced down the hallway towards his armory door as fast as his leaden legs would carry him. Reaching it, he burst into the room without pausing and looked about him, mouth agape.

Clint Barton was nowhere to be seen, the box having also disappeared with him, and yet evidence of his presence had been clearly left behind.

Perhaps you have never heard that the master archer is also a very skillful artist? Well that skill was clearly and masterfully displayed in the armory that day, using three of Stark's prized suits as a canvas.

The first suit had been spray painted a vibrant hot pink, with bright pink glitter liberally sprinkled about to accompany it, and upon the chest plate was a large copy of Hello Kitty.

The second suit had been converted to Hawkeye's own colors of black with purple highlights, a purple arrow "piercing" the area where Stark's heart would be were he wearing the suit, with the graphitized caption across the chest plate reading: _"Caw, caw, M***********!"_

Yet it was the third and final suit that really displayed Clint's artistic abilities, for spanned across the whole of the suit was depicted a realistic looking portrait of Natasha's face.

It was spray painted like all the rest and hastily done, yet it still managed to capture her essence with an emphasis on her flaming auburn hair, her full, red, slightly parted lips, and her piercing green eyes.

It was to this suit that Stark felt his attention drawn and fixated, and for a long while he stared at it—stared at her eyes, that, to him, seemed to have almost an accusatory glint to them.

Tony opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned. And walked out.

Calmly, with his hands in his pockets, Stark sauntered down the hallway, stepping onto the elevator, which seemed to be working fine now, and riding it down to the dormitory level. Once more he walked the corridor till he reached Natasha's flat, her door marked with a black circular plague with a red hourglass upon it.

Letting out a sigh, Tony knocked twice on the woodwork, lowering his head as he waited for her to answer, and in a moment the door opened and Natasha's face was framed in the crack.

"Stark." She greeted in a toneless voice, her face an expressionless mask.

"Natasha, hi," Tony began, his hands back in his pockets while he looked up at her. "Listen, at breakfast, I shouldn't have said those things about your past and all. It really wasn't funny, and I'm sorry for it. Pepper tells me I have a problem with not thinking before I speak and all." He paused thoughtfully, adding in mutter: _among other things, _before quickly continuing. "Anyways, recap: Shouldn't have said it. Wasn't funny. And I'm sorry."

Natasha considered him in silence for a moment, a bit of the ice in her eyes melting at his apology, however poorly done.

"Well, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have lost my temper and thrown that dagger at you. Thank goodness for Clint, right?"

Stark snickered a bit, rubbing the back of his neck and widening his eyes. "Oh yeah. What _ever_ would we do without ol' Birdbrain around…" He muttered, not without a large note of sarcasm in his voice. Clearing his throat, he looked up at Natasha again. "So we good?"

She nodded, the smallest trace of a smile curving her lips. "We're good."

Tony bobbed his head once, clapping his hands together. "Okay. Well then. Bye, Widow."

"Goodbye, Stark."

The door closed, and Tony sauntered away down the hall, whistling an unnamed tune under his breath.

When the corridor was quiet, a slight grating was heard overhead Natasha's door before Clint Barton dropped down to land silently on the carpet like a cat. He looked from her door, to where Stark had disappeared around the corner, before reaching up and giving himself a very literal pat on the back, grinning from ear to ear, before taking off down the opposite end of the hall.

* * *

That night, peace had once more been restored to Avengers Tower. Well, that is, as much peace as one can get when you gather together a Norse demigod, a nervous doctor with anger issues, a soldier from the 1940's, two master assassins, and a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist and his girlfriend all under the same roof, which is not very much.

However, there were no clouds over the horizon of the ragtag team of heroes who were gathered together around the dinner table that evening.

Stark was once more back in Pepper's favor, and was currently sprawled back in his seat with one hand loosely draped about her waist as she sat perched in his lap.

Steve was enthralling all as he happily retold the story of one of his adventures he had with the Howling Commandos, while all the while Thor and Bruce were feeding off of each other's jokes and providing hilarious sound effects and gestures to accompany the tale.

Laughing along with the rest of them, Clint and Natasha listened to Steve's narrative, Clint sitting comfortably with one leg sharing Natasha's chair and leaning against her back, while she sipped on his drink and deftly speared strawberries from the remnants of the fruit salad on his plate with her knife.

When the team finally broke up and each separated to go to sleep, murmuring goodnights, Tony accompanied Pepper back to their flat, her head leaning on his shoulder as they walked and his arm supporting hers.

Reaching their room, Pepper entered, though Tony lingered out in the hallway, seemingly straining his ears to hear something.

"You coming?" she asked, from inside.

"In a moment…." he replied distractedly.

A few seconds later a door was heard opening farther down the hallway, followed by a tremendous splash, and Barton's loud cry of "_STARK!_"

Tony sighed contentedly, smiling to himself as he turned to walk inside his room.

"Coming."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Well? Again, so sorry for the delay! Keep the reviews and ideas coming, because I want to get back into the swing of things. I'm pretty sure I have a plan for the next one shot, but after that, I'm drawing a blank so I NEED YOUR IDEAS!**

**Thanks again for all of the reviews, favorites, and followers! You really mean a lot to me, each and every one of you!**

**-Hawkward Russian**


	7. WWIII - Soundtrack Edition

**A/N:**

**Gah! So sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter! Between being diagnosed with cancer, getting chemotherapy, undergoing several surgeries, and having a busy writing schedule, FanFiction has kinda dropped to the bottom of my priorities. However, with a new review by Anonymous on a one shot idea that was just too good to pass up, I had to write it out for you guys here.**

**Hope you like it! And as always, leave me a review, or hit me up with some more one shot ideas! I love to hear from you guys!**

**Idea Benefactor: Anonymous**

_**"Oh my word I laughed so hard that I almost couldn't breathe. It was awesome.  
Anyway, I've got something for you. You write Clint and Natasha so well so I thought I would give an idea that's been swirling around in my head since I started reading this.  
Clint is sick with the flu and is acting like its the end of the world (He really is sick, though). Natasha starts taking care of him. Meanwhile, Tony is busy messing rigging the gym so that the Bourne theme starts playing whenever Natasha and/or Clint walk in. Once Clint is all the way better, he walks into the gym, hears the them song, and then rigs Tony's lab to start playing the theme for Isengard (Lord of the Rings). From then on, it's World War III while Tony and Clint try to see who can outwit the other with the most annoying theme song.  
I think it would be hilarious. I can't wait for whatever one shot comes next!"**_

* * *

"Clint Barton, I swear if you spit out that thermometer one more time, I will stab it through your larynx."

"Buh mah tongue 'urts!"

"Well, maybe it wouldn't if you would stop rolling it around in your mouth for five minutes, and hold still so I can actually read your temperature! What are you, five?"

"Five hundred degrees Fahrenheit. I don't need you to take my stinking temperature, Nat, I'm burning up! I'll be dead by fever in the morning."

"Nobody dies from a head cold, Clint," was the flat, monotone answer, while Natasha once more wiped off the fallen thermometer, and plunged it back under Clint's tongue, purposefully going a little too deep and lightly stabbing him in the back of the mouth, making him wince.

With a very loud, overdramatic sigh, Clint Barton crossed his arms and mournfully stared off into the distance with the air of a martyr doomed to die, though under the watchful glare of Natasha Romanoff, the thermometer stayed put between bloodless pursed lips.

Not that Natasha would ever admit it, even to herself, but she actually was slightly worried about Clint. Though his overdramatic estimation of five hundred degrees was a bit of an exaggeration, against the cool of her hand on his forehead, her partner was running a very high fever, and she could tell by the sweat beads on his face and the dullness of his eyes that he wasn't feeling good either.

Granted, compared to a gunshot wound or stabbing, a mere virus, no matter how extreme, hardly even came close. But as the bond between the two deadly assassins had grown with their partnership, each now felt the pain of the other as if it were their own, and for Natasha, it was an unwelcome feeling to be in the position of not being able to do anything about it now, but watch and wait for the sickness to pass.

She hated to see Clint suffer, no matter how slight.

Unless, of course, that suffering was explicitly caused by her hand.

"It's bween fife minutes," Clint mumbled around the thermometer in his mouth after a moment, causing Natasha to reach forward and remove the instrument, holding it up to the light to see what it reported.

"So what about it, doc?" Clint asked, massaging sore cheek muscles as he leaned back in his chair, watching her with a slight smirk. "Do I have the plague?"

"Oh, he's flat-lining," was the cheery response from the corner of the room, as Tony Stark entered, making a beeline straight for the bar. "Call it."

"Please," groaned Natasha, with an accompanying eye roll, as she gracefully flicked the glass thermometer's side to make the mercury drop. "It's only a high fever. You probably got some virus from one of those kids at Stark's party the other night."

"Oh. Yeah. Blame it on the little rugrats," Stark scoffed, pouring himself a glass of brandy. "He probably got it from that fleabag stray he insists on keeping in his apartment."

"Lucky doesn't have fleas!" Clint instantly riled in the defensive, snapping a finger towards Tony. "And he's not a stray either," he added in a mumble. "Not anymore…."

Stark merely shrugged and took a long pull from his glass.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Barton caught a cold from that dunking you gave him the other night, Stark," chimed in Steve, who was reclining in a nearby armchair reading the newspaper. "The poor housemaids who had to clean up that mess…"

"I will have you know that's an old wives tale, that has long since been proved outdated by science," was Stark's clever retort. "And for god's sake, Cap, I thought we were over reading the Famer's Almanac from fifty years ago."

"I have never before experienced this mortal thing you call sickness," Thor mused from over the cue of a close game of pool against Banner. "I suppose in Asgard we are all mighty."

"That, or your WBC's and Neutrophils are off the charts…" murmured Bruce, scoring a neat side pocket.

"Either way," Clint piped up from where he was sprawled across the couch, his feet draped over Natasha's lap, and fingers knitted behind his head, a wet cloth draped over his eyes, "when I die, I wanna be buried with my bow, and in my last will and testament, Natasha gets dibs on my throwing knives. Steve, you get Lucky. Bruce, my motorcycle's all yours, man. And Thor, you can have my purple silk boxers. Just don't rip them."

Stark spread his arms.

"What about me? What do I get?"

There was a moment of silence in which Clint reached up to lift a corner of the washcloth over his eyes, dryly considering Stark with a slight frown, as if the thought that he should get anything had never occurred to him. "…My stamp collection…?"

Tony snorted. "I was thinking more along the lines of the lease."

Clint shrugged, once more settling back down with the cloth over his eyes.

"SHIELD property. You'll have to take that up with Fury."

"Or I could just have one of the many begruntled agents you've pranked over the years, sign off on a forgery for me."

"That too."

* * *

"This suuuuuuuuuuucks," Clint moaned, burying his face in his pillow.

"You're dehydrated," was the monotone reply from Natasha seated at his elbow, her eyes never roving from the book she was reading.

"F you, virus!" Clint continued, voice slightly muffled, ignoring her and flipping a bird at nothing in particular, his face still buried in his pillow.

"Drink water. It will help with your headache."

"Liar. Water will only increase the pressure, till "poof!" No more Hawkeye." And Clint illustrated this with hand gestures that implied his head exploding, both arms flopping back on the bed while he stared up at the ceiling.

One dry eyebrow from Natasha, and he rolled over to snag his water bottle with a muttered "fine".

"You need to take better care of yourself, Clint, or you'll only get worse," was his partner's soft remonstration a moment later.

Clint scoffed slightly under his breath, rolling over on his side facing her and closing his eyes. "Thanks, Mother. You actually sound like you care."

"Maybe I do," was the simple reply, and at this Clint's eyes flashed open to find her face, her own holding eye contact for a moment, though as always, her expression kept entirely unreadable.

"Let me guess: if you told me, you would have to kill me?" he teased, eyes scanning that of his partner's in an effort to read her thoughts.

Natasha smirked. "Well, well, the Hawk has a brain after all…."

Clint gave a low, husky chuckle, and settled back down into his mass of blankets and pillows, closing his eyes once more.

Five minutes later found the infamous Hawkeye fast asleep, the cool fingers of his partner running through his sandy hair, easing the damp tendrils off his hot forehead, while Natasha quietly read by his bedside.

* * *

"Four days, Nat! Four frickin' days since I've been to the gym. My poor bow probably doesn't even recognize me!"

"It's a bow, Clint," Natasha said dryly, silently laughing at her partner who was practically leaping down the halls with pent up energy after a nearly a week of sickness. "It doesn't have feelings. Or a brain."

"Either way," Clint shot back, turning to walk backwards so that he could face Natasha while he talked. "I'm sick of being sick. It's been waaaay too long."

Chuckling under her breath at how puppy-like he was in the moment, Natasha merely shook her head and followed her partner down the halls towards the gym.

She _had_ missed him. Her morning training routines just weren't the same without Clint's skill, and their combined ceaseless bantering. Whether she admitted it or not, she was looking forward to having him back, now that he was feeling better.

All the better to wipe the floor with his ass.

"_Ooheeeeeeeeeeeee! Ooheeeeeeeeeeeee!"_

"What the hell?!" Instinctually, both Clint and Natasha covered their ears and tensed like springs at the nearly deafening sound that greeted their entrance into the gym, the both of them instantly snapping into defensive action and preparing themselves for a surprise attack.

"_Extreme ways are back again, extreme places I didn't know. I broke everything new again, everything that I owned."_

"Is that…the _Bourne _theme?!" Clint said in wonderment, having to shout to be heard over the noise of the song.

"_I threw it out the windows, came along, extreme ways I know move apart. The colors of my sea - perfect color me."_

"My God, it is," Natasha gasped, looking around for a way to turn off the deafening song, that was now back to screeching.

"But who the hell would—"

One look between the two assassins, and they both had the answer at the same time.

"_Stark."_

* * *

"Anthony Stark, you are in dangerous waters," Natasha said in a low tone as she stomped into the rec room, glaring daggers at Stark who had moved a little too quickly away from the security cameras upon the two assassin's entrance, and was now attempting to appear relaxed as he reclined against the floor-length window, drink in hand.

"What, you didn't like my 'welcome back' gift?" the billionaire replied, flashing them both the innocent smile of a businessman over the rim of his glass.

"Yeah, it was hilarious. I think my ear drums are permanently damaged," was Natasha's fierce comeback. "Besides, now thanks to you, I'm gonna have to deal with _this _for another week," she said, gesturing over towards Clint who had been in the background singing the song and air drumming, but now stood frozen and guilty under her pointed finger. "Do you know how long it takes to get a song out of his head?!"

In response, Stark choked slightly on his drink, having to try very hard not to laugh - his prank having turned out better than expected.

The security footage was already about to break the internet.

"Dangerous waters," Natasha repeated, with a warning glare.

Stark smirked. "Roll out the cannons, Romanoff."

* * *

Once more, Avengers tower became a battleground.

All day, its occupants waited in tense, subdued silence for the prank war that was sure to follow. For a few hours, Stark watched on the security cameras as Clint worked to revert his masterpiece and restore the gym speakers back to normal - the process taking the archer about twice as long due to frequent stops to listen through the entire song several times during a sporadic target practice.

This was made mildly entertaining with the addition of an air guitar and drumming solo using his bow and arrows as props, and a very gung-ho karaoke performance to an imaginary live audience below the sparring mat, while unbeknownst to the performing archer, Stark secretly made copies of the security footage that he fully intended to upload to YouTube later, along with the initial feed.

Eventually, however, the inevitable happened - the gym sound system was finally fixed, and no sooner after, both Natasha and Clint disappeared - no amount of prodding Jarvis or scanning security cameras unearthing their whereabouts, or what they were up to. Which of course made Stark extremely nervous. He knew whatever the two assassins were up to would eventually directly affect him, and the knowledge that at any one point in time he could be walking directly into a trap, did not do anything to ease his fears.

In an effort to head off any prank plans, Stark quickly hightailed it to his personal armory, and after checking that each and every one of his suits were in perfect working order, settled down in a chair in the corner with a bottle of brandy to wait out the inevitable.

But after hours of this, and several new high scores on _Subway Surfers, _the silence and inactivity got to him, and Tony decided to at least be productive and join Banner in the lab.

"There you are," Banner said, looking up from a holographic display as Tony arrived. "I was just about to call you. These readings are off the charts! I think we've finally broken into the catalyst."

"Have you stabilized the conductor?" Stark asked, instantly forgetting all as he approached Bruce and their project, his interest peaking.

"Of course I did. We're running at 83%. I think we can finally introduce the—"

"_They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard, to Isengard, to Isengard!"_

"What the hell?!"

"GAH!"

Both scientists jumped severely, as before them all of the screens that had before displayed scientific data and charts, now broadcasted a mix tape of Clint Barton dressed up as Legolas from The Lord of the Rings, singing at the top of his lungs to a very cringe-worthy tune.

"_The Hobbits, the Hobbits, the Hobbits, the Hobbits, to Isengard! To Isengard!"_

The two scientists could do nothing but stare in horror, as also appearing upon the screen danced several clones of Tony's own image, digitally altered to appear short and squat like a Hobbit, and marching along dramatically in true Teletubby style.

"Turn it off!" Stark shrieked, horrified. "Jarvis, turn it off!"

"_I'm sorry, sir, but my protocols are being overridden."_

_"THEY'RE TAKING THE HOBBITS TO ISENGARD! TO ISENGARD! TO ISENGARD!"_

"Bruce! Quick! Unplug it!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!"

"_THEY'RE TAKING THE HOBBITS—"_

With a sudden yank of the central power cord, both the screens and the room went dark, the sudden silence that followed seemingly just as deafening as Clint's earlier song.

For several moments, all Stark could do was stare in horrified shock at the now blank screen, mouth open and eyes wide at the sight that was now sure to haunt his dreams, before all of a sudden he turned to Bruce and spoke a simple three words.

"This. Is. War."

* * *

The events of the following few days after the incident in the lab, are now referred to by many of the non-participating Avengers as WWIII - Soundtrack Edition, and is either fondly remembered with a laugh over dinner, or shuddered at in dreams plagued with the most annoying replays of some of the worst songs in the history of humanity.

For soon it was common to hear surprised shouts and the blasting volume of some song or other, echoing throughout the halls of Avengers tower at random times throughout the day, as both Stark and Clint kept themselves busy rigging theme songs to play upon entrance to certain rooms they knew they other frequented - each trying to outwit the other with outstanding creativity.

And creative they were.

Clint was surprised with a ear splitting rendition of _Who Let the Dogs Out _ upon entering his apartment, which instantly set off all the dogs in the neighborhood, including Lucky, to barking. Stark nearly passed out when the bathroom mirror suddenly showed the holographic footage of Clint twerking in nothing but his purple silk boxers to LMFAO's _Sexy and I Know It, _and even Natasha didn't escape without first being woken up at 3am to a very loud dubstepped rendition of _The Itsy Bitsy Spider_.

There really was no telling how long things would have continued if the others hadn't put an end to it—Bruce, Thor, Steve, Sharon, Jane, Darcy, Pepper, and even Hill, all banding together to surprise the three miscreants with a flash mob dance performance to the song _We're All In This Together _one morning.

After all, there really is no topping things when one moment you're all sitting down properly to breakfast, and the next you have Thor and Bruce dancing on the tables, Sharon, Jane, Darcy, Pepper, and Hill acting like little school girls again with rhythmic hand claps and ditsy skips about the room, and Steve lip syncing the entire song through his broom microphone/air guitar before his backup dancers.

After that, there really was no going back anyways. Even after Fury paid a visit and demanded that they all get their act together, claiming that SHIELD was working overtime to try and remove all incriminating videos of the Avengers acting like fools on YouTube.

* * *

**A/N:**

**So? Whatcha think? Did I at least crack any smiles? ;)**

**Don't forget to write me a review and send me some more ideas!**


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